I’m pretty good about trying things at least once before I claim to not like them. Something I urge my children to do when they automatically say something is “eeew gross” or “I don’t like it”, before they even try it. I’m referring to food here, just to be clear. But there is one thing I absolutely, positively, undoubtedly hate beyond all things. What would that be? Eggs. My mother told me she tried feeding me a spoonful of scrambled eggs as a young child and I spit it right out. She tried again, and again, I spit it out. She gave it awhile and tried again when I was closer to three, and again, I spit it out.
Now when I tell people how deep my hate for eggs is they look at me like I’m crazy. And let’s face it, I am a bit crazy, but I am absolutely sane when it comes to my hate of eggs. People are confused about my hate for eggs. Most people like or even love the little oval-shaped things. I think I could count on one hand how many people I have met in my entire life that told me they shared my passion for being revolted by an egg. And I’ve met a lot of people throughout my life, since I will pretty much talk to anyone willing to listen or respond back.
The confusing part for most people comes when they ask me if I’m allergic to eggs. Nope. Not allergic. Just hate them. But…but…eggs are in everything! Don’t you eat cake, cookies, bread, etc.? Of course I do. Too much of those things sometimes. You see it’s not the egg that’s baked into the cake, or the cookies, or the breads that I hate. I hate eggs in their natural state. Raw, fried, scrambled – I’m dry heaving as I type this – in egg salad, or even over easy. Please, for the love of goodness, DO NOT crack the yolk of an over easy egg in front of me with the corner of your toast and then dribble it up to your mouth to eat. Good grief, I’m beyond dry heaving and moving on to pure vomiting at the thought of it.
I finally figured out over all these years what it is about these things called eggs that I hate so much. It’s a texture thing. It’s the slimy, spongy, goopiness of the little buggers that makes me want to hurl. And the smell! I had a friend in elementary school who would bring egg salad sandwiches to lunch and I damn near lost it from the smell of them alone.
Truthfully, I wish I could learn to love eggs. Oh, I’ve tried. Believe me I have tried. I wish I could love them because they are the “it” thing to eat for breakfast. And when you go out to breakfast, those suckers are in everything. Maybe that’s why I have never been much of a breakfast person. My hate for eggs has ruined many a meal for me. Whenever I go to a BBQ and someone offers me potato or macaroni salad, I do the quick scan with my eyes to see if there are any eggs in the bowl. People like to think they can trick me and tell me there are no eggs in their salad. Listen up folks, when it comes to spotting an egg in a bowl of some type of salad, you can bet you’re butt I WILL spot it. Whether it be a part of the yolk or the white, believe me when I say I can spot that puppy out before you can blink. My mama didn’t raise no fool baby.
It also comes down to something else. In all honesty, I have a real problem ingesting something that an animal “laid” and then sat on with its butt. Call me crazy, but there is just something wrong with that. I mean, seriously wrong man! Think about it and tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.
Eggs. They are a necessary part of cooking and I couldn’t get by without them. But don’t expect that to make me like ‘em. That ain’t happening!